


Spoils

by FernMayo



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Eventual Smut, F/M, Loss of Virginity, Porn with Feelings, Sparring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-14
Updated: 2020-02-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:41:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22258129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FernMayo/pseuds/FernMayo
Summary: AU in which Robert Baratheon is alive.  Brienne serves under Renly, Lord Paramount of the Stormlands, untrained and underutilized.  When Jaime Lannister rides into camp with an unusual request, she seizes the opportunity to prove herself.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 56
Kudos: 235





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> This is basically an exercise to see if I can write smut. I can’t exactly take it down to the local community college and workshop it, so I thought I’d get feedback by writing fanfiction. I read tons of Jaime/Brienne so I’m taking a stab at that. Obligatory first time warning—pun intended.

White horse, gold hair, red cloak—Jaime Lannister looked like a boil about to pop. Brienne despised him. Instead of training, Renly’s guard had fallen over themselves catering to his party, an odd assortment of sell-swords who sneered at their welcome. She watched them parade into Renly’s tent from her own, which was at the center of camp. Hers would have been a privileged position were she a man, but it made her the object of derision. Renly thought it necessary that she be close to his guard should some hedge knight try to take advantage, announcing to the rest of camp that she was in need of protection. The suggestion angered her, as did the idea that she was better different because of her birth. Still, his consideration warmed her and made anger hard to maintain. She felt it when her father didn’t write, and when people said cruel things they thought she couldn’t hear. She felt it when inferior soldiers refused to train with her. Those days she would hack away at a practice dummy for hours on end and, when she collapsed beneath her furs, she drifted off not forty feet from the sleeping lord. 

Her proximity to Renly meant that she heard things others didn’t. Still, she was surprised when he summoned her to his tent in the evening. It was larger than hers but felt small with his advisors and the Lannister men standing about. All of them, eight in total, turned to look as she entered. Despite his initial concern about her virtue, Renly had hardly spoken to her since she joined the camp and she couldn’t imagine why he wanted to now. Harder still to imagine was the presence of the queen’s brother, who appraised her with the focus of a maester. 

“Lady Brienne,” greeted Renly. 

“Lord Renly. I’ve come as you asked.” One of the Lannister men chuckled, which earned him a stern look from the lion himself, who leaned against Renly’s chair. His eyes met Brienne’s and the look changed to one of amusement. She returned to the safety of Renly’s gaze. She wasn’t naïve enough to think he cared for her beyond what he owed her father, but at least he was used to her height, her muscle, and her lack of wit. He knew she was smart enough with a blade. 

“Sir Jaime has a favor to ask you. I’ve told him the decision is yours alone.”

Brienne’s eyes narrowed in confusion. “Aren’t I a soldier?” she asked.

“Of course,” answered Renly, as she hoped he would.

“Then I am yours to command.” 

Renly took her meaning and was quick to placate her. “And your loyalty is appreciated,” he replied with a wave of his hand, “but this is a bit delicate. It’s something only you... well, if I may ask….” His voice faltered. While he searched for the right words, Jaime rose to his full height. “We need a virgin.” This earned him another chuckle. “A virgin woman, or else my companions would suffice.” 

“Are there none left in King’s Landing?” Brienne asked before she could stop herself. She’d heard what the lords and ladies of court got up to. They were part of world to which she didn’t belong, and she was grateful for it. 

“We need one who can fight, and who won’t slow us down. I have my doubts, but Lord Renly says you can wield a sword.”

“I can.”

“I’d like to see for myself.”

Renly cleared his throat. “First we should settle the matter of—”

“Oh, clearly she’s a virgin,” interrupted Ser Jaime. Over the years, Brienne had schooled her features into a stoic mask. Though her instinct was to stoop, she refused to lower herself for the comfort of others. She stood tall and her eyes never left Renly’s, even when she saw them fill with pity.

“Of course,” added Renly in a voice too soft to be for her. “She’s a highborn lady.”

Brienne sighed. “Just tell me what you need me to do.”

It was Sir Jaime who answered. “We’ve had intelligence regarding Daenerys Targaryen and her dragons.”

“Dragons have been extinct for—"

“Yes, yes. Anyway, a very credible witness saw dragons at the bottom of his goblet. Rather than listen to his advisors, Robert Baratheon has sent us to find a witch who he swears will tell us where they are, but she has conditions.”

“Conditions?” asked Brienne, and then it clicked. “You mean to offer me to her.”

He shrugged. “If you’re as good as my brother-in-law says, that shouldn’t be a problem. And if not, we can all go home. No doubt the king has already forgotten where we are.”

And so Brienne found herself alone in a clearing with Jaime Lannister, trying to prove herself to a man she couldn’t stand. The first thrust of his sword was meant to throw her off balance, to take her out and settle the matter so he could go home. She should have let him do it, but anger over the way he’d looked at her, or, if she were honest, the pity in Renly’s eyes made her dodge his blow with a grace she rarely showed off the practice field. She saw his surprise and used it to her advantage, landing a blow across his shoulder that sent him backwards a bit, but not enough to knock him off balance. 

They fought, surprised to find themselves evenly matched. Brienne refused to give ground, forcing him to dodge and defend until sweat dripped into his eyes. He was quicker, though, and seemed to know when she’d strike. He let her aim and then dodged at the last moment, until they both began to tire. She tired more quickly, though, and found herself pinned to a large oak. Ser Jaime brought his weapon down and she blocked, her arms shaking under the weight of his sword. Her muscles ached to let go. If she did, the Lannister men would go back to Kings Landing empty-handed. She’d go back to her furs and her young lord, to whom she owed her loyalty, and to pitying glances and veiled insults. 

Brienne dropped her sword and ducked to the side. With nothing holding it up, Ser Jaime’s own weapon fell forward and glanced off the tree. As he steadied himself, she landed a punch to the side of his face and swept his legs out from under him with one of her own. He went down and she climbed on top of him, pressing a dagger to his neck that she’d seemingly willed to existence.

“Yield,” she commanded. Ser Jaime’s chest rose and fell, but he said nothing. She stared into his eyes and watched for the familiar look of surprise, the moment she waited for every time she knocked a man into the dirt. She was always rewarded and the present was no different, except that this time the look was replaced by genuine curiosity. Brienne searched for the malice behind it and saw only that searching look he’d first given her when she entered Renly’s tent. He quickly replaced it with a grin, and she felt the warmth of him between her thighs. He must have noticed, because in a moment she was on her back with no idea what had happened—only that Ser Jaime had her pinned to the dirt and was smiling down at her. 

“My lady…” He shifted closer and Brienne drew in a breath. “Do you yield?” Her anger burned out at that moment. It was the moment she realized that she was alone in a field under the queen's brother, his legs nestled between hers. She turned her head to hide her blush and felt his breath on her cheek. “Do you yield?” he repeated slowly, as if she hadn’t heard, which brought the anger surging back. She turned her face back to him and looked him in the eye.

“If you weren’t Jaime Lannister--”

“You’d do what?” he asked, a lascivious smile spreading across his face.

She glanced at his neck where she thought his pulse was. Surely it would be soft if she were to put her lips there. “If you were the witch," she replied, "I would kill you with my teeth.” Ser Jaime’s laughter rippled through her chest until she felt it in her toes. “I believe you would,” he answered, and rolled off her. He stood and offered her his hand. The next morning, she rode out of the camp on a white horse.


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! When I started this fic it was just to get some practice writing porn for normal reasons. I didn’t anticipate more than a few people reading the last chapter, or that I’d have so much fun writing it—I was pleasantly surprised. However, what was only going to be a brief setup and some smut might require a few extra chapters in order to make the premise work (as much as possible, anyway). I’m squeezing this in with my regular, non-porn writing which is why the story's a bit rushed, but I’ll try to update weekly. Thanks for reading!

“We are looking for a witch who collects virgins.” Brienne rode beside Jaime, who had refused to brief her before they set out. 

“Yes.”

“In the Stormlands.”

“Yes.”

“Why haven’t I heard of her?” Brienne asked. 

“Because she’s the contrivance of a Braavosi merchant who’s been bending Robert’s ear,” answered Jaime, as if explaining himself to a child.

“And why would he contrive to deliver a virgin to a nonexistent witch?” 

“You ask too many questions,” he replied, and made to ride ahead.

“For a woman?” she asked. 

Jaime pulled up the reigns of his horse. “For a soldier.” She flushed red as he returned to her side, his horse trotting along merrily. ‘It’s almost as smug as he is,’ she thought. 

“But to answer your…fourth question? Or was it your fifth?” he continued. “To answer your fifth question, I fully expect an ambush when we arrive. Someone wants to disgrace Robert by killing me in the act of sacrificing a maid—more embarrassing for me, really. They’ll expect you to be helpless. They certainly won’t expect… this.” His eyes traveled the length of her and back up. Brienne was used to such blatant appraisal. What she wasn’t used to was the glint of mirth in his. Unable to return his gaze any longer, she looked at the road ahead. 

“Does Lord Renly know?” Brienne cursed herself the question left her mouth. Ser Jaime did ride ahead then, leaving her in the back of the column. She’d wondered about his companions and realized now that he’d purchased them for the simple reason that they could be purchased. They could also be paid to keep quiet. Surely Lord Renly knew the truth, though, or did he really expect her to fight a witch with steel? It could only be a jape, she concluded, a message to the men who thought they could kill Jaime Lannister. What could be gained by parading her through the wilderness if it weren’t? He wasn’t one for subtlety, she thought, watching the sun reflect off his gilded armor. She could imagine their faces when a large, homely, decidedly-not-helpless virgin ran them through. 

They traveled the coasts until the landscape became barren, flattened by the constant battering of wind coming in from the sea. In the afternoon they cut into the wilderness, a dark tangle of brush under a green canopy. Afternoon gave way to dusk and Brienne felt the air thicken, blanketing her in a light warmth. “Ser Jaime,” she called. His shoulders tensed, but he turned his horse.

“Yet another question, soldier?” he asked when he reached her. 

“There’s a storm coming.”

“How do you know—are you the witch? I regret that I’m not a maid.” Ser Jaime smirked at his own jape. 

“I can smell it,” she answered, doing her best not to shove him off his mount. He lifted his chin and breathed in. The smirk returned and she knew he was about to say something awful when a drop of water landed on his head. In a moment he was gone, his laughter echoing back to her. He spoke to one of the sells-words, a short, wiry man referred to as Jae who rode ahead and found a little cave about an hour’s ride out. In that hour, the sky opened completely. Storms in that corner of Westeros were short but brutal. Rather than sink, ships seemed to disappear within moments, and Brienne had once seen a piece of straw go through a barn door. She didn’t argue when they drove their horses at a speed that could be considered dangerous.

Night fell as they reached the cave, and there was no kindling to build a fire. They tended to the horses and made camp for the night. The sell-swords kept to themselves and carved out a space for the front of the cave, and Ser Jaime found his own spot across from them. Brienne grabbed her bedroll and looked for somewhere more secluded. She wasn’t sure how deep the cave was so she went as far as she dared, far enough so that she could no longer see the stars above the stony outcrop and the men were merely silhouettes. 

The summer air was warm, but she was soaked through and shivering. She started to remove her tunic and stopped short, hugging it to her chest. The silhouettes hadn’t moved—they still sprawled at the mouth of the cave—but there was one missing. She looked around, but it was so dark she decided it didn’t matter. No one could see her, and no one would want to anyway. That much was clear to everyone. She dreaded what would come in the next day, when they reached their destination and she became the punchline of a jape, the plaything of a vengeful lord. 

Brienne felt him before she saw him. The air moved, heavy as it was. She spun around and her eyes bored into his, silently asking how he dared. Her cheeks flushed with anger and she nearly reached for her sword. 

“I have an extra blanket,” said Ser Jaime. It took her a moment to register that he was holding something out to her. She reached for it with one arm, careful to keep her tunic in place with the other. She felt something soft, much softer than what she was used to in camp. His errand complete, Jaime started to walk away but something stopped him. “Renly doesn’t know,” he said. 

“Don’t move,” said Brienne.

“May I ask—”

“Just let me put a bloody shirt on,” she blurted out. At the mouth of the cave the silhouettes fidgeted, but Ser Jaime didn’t move. Brienne dropped the wet tunic and changed into a new one. “Turn around.”

He did. Her eyes had adjusted to the dark and she could see his face. He looked tired. “I gave him every assurance you’d come back alive.”

“I’m not a sorceress,” she replied. 

“And Renly isn’t a genius, nor is he worthy of such blind loyalty.”

“He’s more honorable than most,” said Brienne.

“And quite pretty,” drawled Jaime. He seemed to love pushing her buttons and she’d wondered when he would get to this one in particular. In three words he’d reduced her oath to the infatuation of a simpering maid and whether he knew there was truth in it didn’t matter. The words hung in the air as they regarded each other.

“So are you,” she said at last, flinging the words at him like stones, “and yet loyalty is the last thing you inspire.” She looked him in the eye and waited for him to retaliate. She’d landed a blow, and he would either yield or say something to cut her down. She knew he could. He drew a breath and she braced herself.

“I am rather, aren’t I?” His eyes sparkled. “What is it that I inspire in you, Lady Brienne?” he asked, and she heard no more from him but his receding footsteps.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why's it called "Spoils," you ask? Cuz I was going somewhere completely different. Now it just doesn't make sense, but does that even matter? Aren't we just here for the smut I'm taking forever to get to and maybe suck at writing but we'll find out next week?  
> For anyone who's wondering, the horses will be fine.

Jae and Kharloff—that’s what Jaime called his men. Brienne didn’t address them and they didn’t address her, but she figured she ought to know their names if she was going to spend the day staring at their backs. Their shoulders swayed as the horses negotiated the stony ground. After a while the terrain grew too rough and they were all forced to dismount. Brienne’s horse was sweet but stubborn, and she had to coax it through the brush with soft words. 

The trek was monotonous. Brienne focused on what she’d do when she met the assassins. She wouldn’t hide in the shadows, and she didn’t think Lannister expected it. His stupid plan hinged on her participation. At the very least, it was an opportunity to follow orders, stay alive, and protect her king, the same as any soldier. It was the only opportunity she was likely to have in a long time.

The air grew static as they traveled. Her skin itched and she longed to remove her armor. She thought she heard heat crackle around her, and realized she wasn’t crazy when Kharloff turned and gasped at the site of her. Kharloff stopped short, but Jaime surged forward. When he reached her the heat pooled into little points of light, like fireflies, which danced near her skin and armor. She held her breath as Jaime plucked one from her cheek. It sparkled in his palm for a moment before flitting away on the wind.

“What are they?” asked Brienne as they began to ascend, their light caresses making her shiver. 

“I don’t know,” he answered. No one moved. Instead they watched, rapt as the lights decorated the canopy of trees like stars in the night sky. Then, before anyone could blink, they disappeared. Brienne wondered if they’d been there at all. She looked down at Jaime to find him staring at her, his face grim. She fixed her eyes steadily on his.

“Shall we continue?” she asked as if she hadn’t just been lit up like a sept at Sevenmas. 

Her words pulled Jaime out of whatever thought he’d been lost in. “I think we have to.” He pointed to a spot over her shoulder. She turned and saw a wall of vines where there had been open forest minutes ago. The vines stretched around them in a circle, cutting them off from the rest of the forest. In one section, they parted and allowed just enough room for a single person to enter without armor. Somehow Brienne knew that trying to move the vines would do no good. She fiddled with the clasps of her breastplate, but Jaime stilled her with a hand on her arm. “We’ll all go together.”

They removed their armor and led the horses to a patch of grass. Brienne was sure Jaime would send Jae or Kharloff ahead, but he surprised her by going first. She was to go last, and she watched with increasing alarm as each man crossed into darkness. When it was her turn, she smiled wanly at her pretty horse. She hated to think about what would happen if she didn’t return and the wall remained impenetrable. It was the last thought she had before she stepped through.

Brienne felt warmth as she entered, the same warmth that had visited her earlier, only this time there was no light. When she emerged, she stood in large hall. Fires glowed in braziers all around her, casting shadows on the walls and floor. Jaime and the others were nowhere to be seen, but before she could panic a figure in a hooded robe emerged from a corner of the room. It walked purposefully toward her.

“Stop,” Brienne commanded. She went to draw her sword but found nothing at her hip. The figure stopped in front of her and raised its hand. Then it pushed the hood away to reveal a cascade of brown curls and the loveliest face Brienne had ever seen. 

“Finally,” said the woman, her amber eyes wide with longing. “Your companions have already arrived. You may join them after you’ve settled in.” As if on cue, a servant entered from a door at the far end of the room. “Tess will show you to your room. There’s a bath and fresh clothes waiting for you. Are you hungry?”

“Where is Ser Jaime?” asked Brienne. 

“You don’t have to trust me,” answered the woman, “but you must obey.”

“I don’t need a sword to defend myself,” Brienne replied. 

The woman lifted her hood and turned. “No, sweetling. You have many other weapons,” she said as she walked away. 

So Brienne found herself bathed and clothed in a linen tunic and soft breaches—so soft as to be nearly impractical. Tess had promised to retrieve her for dinner, so naturally she went in search of her companions almost as soon as the girl left. The first door she opened, which happened to be the one next to hers, revealed Kharloff lounging lazily in a tub. He tossed her a wink and she slammed the door shut, hoping for better luck next time. 

Figuring she’d better knock, Brienne tapped quietly on the next door. She was relieved when Jaime opened it until the usual feeling of annoyance washed over her. He stared at her, the same look he’d given her right before they went through the vines. “Are you going to let me in?” she asked.

Jaime opened the door and she walked past him, surveying the room. It was the same as hers, a fire burning in the hearth, a warm bed, a tub and a small table. It was neither spacious nor cramped, but the lack of windows made her feel claustrophobic. “There was no ambush,” she said, crossing her arms in front of herself against his scrutiny. His eyes hadn’t left her since she entered.

“No,” he answered almost sadly.

“No,” she repeated, waiting for him to elaborate.

“Brienne….” He began, the earnestness in his voice startling her out of her frustration. He walked toward her but stopped, thinking better of it. “I’m an arrogant, honorless, ignorant man,” he said finally, and the tension he carried seemed to release at that moment. He shoulders sagged and his eyes searched hers, and for the life of her she couldn’t maintain the anger that had carried her through the morning. She felt the urge to comfort him, and she hated herself for it. 

“Where are we?” she asked finally, sensing that he knew.

“The witch,” he answered. “She’s real—she must be. She’s real and I led you here to die.” 

Brienne felt as if she’d been dropped from the top of a mountain. She longed to fight for her king, to defend her lord, to bring honor to her family. She’d been given the opportunity, it seemed, but not in the way she’d thought. It was almost comical, and she couldn’t stop the grin that crept to her lips. “You’re an arrogant, honorless, ignorant man,” she agreed, registering but numb to the fact that she was about to die. “But I’m a soldier. I’ll do as I’m commanded.”

Jaime’s eyes searched her eyes, her lips, her crooked nose. He looked at with such intensity she could barely return his gaze. “Lay with me,” he said finally, sending warmth like firelight straight to her core.


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is late! It was a lot harder than I thought it would be—mostly because there are only so many ways to say “thrust,” but also because it just is. Some of Jaime’s dialogue is taken directly from the show which is obvious, but I figured I should mention it just in case. If anyone has innovative ways to say someone quickly moved their penis in a forward direction, let me know in the comments!

Brienne searched for the punchline. Jaime Lannister was known for his wit, but she didn’t understand the joke. His eyes were earnest enough, and there was no audience to laugh at her. Still, her mind ran through a hundred possibilities and she found none in which the queen’s brother bedded Brienne the Beauty.

“We need to come up with a plan,” she said finally.

“I just told you the plan,” he answered. He reached out and she backed away instinctively.

Her eyes pinned him in place before he could reach for her again. ““Witches are real, Ser Jaime. Do you think dragons might be real, too?” It wasn’t a question he was meant to answer, and she continued before he could, her voice mocking. “I don’t need your protection. I need your help protecting our king. Are you capable of that, Kingslayer?” 

Jaime clenched his jaw but his expression remained neutral, any emotion he felt buried where she couldn’t see. Brienne recognized his neutrality for what it was—she erected the same facade when people mocked her. That’s how she knew she’d hurt him. Guilt washed over her, but she didn’t back down, her eyes never leaving his. Finally, when she thought she could no longer bear the silence, he spoke. “You’ve heard of Wildfire?” 

She hesitated before answering. “Of course.”

“The Mad King was obsessed with it,” he continued, walking toward her. “He loved to watch people burn, the way their skin blackened and blistered and melted off their bones. He burned lords he didn't like. He burned Hands who disobeyed him. He burned anyone who was against him. Finally, the day of reckoning came. Robert Baratheon marched on the capital after his victory at the Trident. But my father arrived first with the whole Lannister army at his back, promising to defend the city against the rebels. I knew my father better than that. He's never been one to pick the losing side. I told the Mad King as much. I urged him to surrender peacefully. But the king didn't listen to me.” 

He took another step forward. This time when he reached for her she didn’t move. His hand rested gently on her arm. “’Burn them all,’ he said. ‘Burn them in their homes. Burn them in their beds.’ Tell me, if your precious Renly commanded you to kill your own father and stand by while thousands of men, women, and children burned alive, would you have done it? Would you have kept your oath then?” His other hand curled around her free arm and he stepped closer. His proximity was startling, but she didn’t dare move. “First, I killed the pyromancer. And then when the king turned to flee, I drove my sword into his back. ‘Burn them all,’ he kept saying. I don't think he expected to die. He ... he meant to burn with the rest of us and rise again, reborn as a dragon to turn his enemies to ash. I slit his throat to make sure that didn't happen. That's where Ned Stark found me.” 

Brienne’s eyes widened and she looked at Jaime as if for the first time. In a single moment he’d become a different person, someone with great courage, someone unlike anyone she’d ever met. And yet he was still the man who slandered the king at every opportunity, and who brought her to the wilderness for his own amusement. He was, perhaps, aligned with a family of traitors. Ser Jaime was brilliant and tarnished all at once, and she didn’t know what to make of him. “If this is true... why didn't you tell anyone? Why didn't you tell Lord Stark?” she asked, her voice unsteady.

“Stark?” answered Jaime. “You think the honorable Ned Stark wanted to hear my side? He judged me guilty the moment he set eyes on me. Just like you.”

“I didn’t-“

“It doesn’t matter,” he interrupted. “I may be an oathbreaker, a man without honor, but I won’t be the man Baratheon thinks I am.” He began to pull her closer, but she put her hands against his chest to stop him.

“Wildfire or dragon fire… we have a responsibility,” she said, trying to ignore the beat of his heart beneath her palm.

“You don’t think I can kill a dragon?” Jaime asked, his arms encircling her. “I killed the Mad King, didn’t I?” He dipped his head and before she could react his lips touched the spot where her neck met her shoulder. Her eyes drifted shut and she leaned into him, her hands falling from his chest even as her brain told her to stop. She didn’t want him to be that man either, she realized, and even more than that, she wanted to know what he felt like. She knew she shouldn’t. Men like him didn’t look at women like her with anything but disgust. No one did, in fact.

“We don’t have to… you could just…” she said as his hand slipped under her tunic and drifted up her spine.

“Just what?” he breathed into her neck.

“Just…”

“Put it in?” he answered for her. “Do you want that?” The hand under her shirt flattened and pushed her forward so they were chest to chest, his warmth radiating through the thin fabric of her tunic, his palm anchoring her in place. He pressed another kiss just below her jaw. “I don’t.” His lips tickled her ear and she shivered. She felt rather than heard him chuckle, just like when they were sparring.

“You’re still an arrogant ass,” she managed while the hand under her shirt took up its roaming again. 

“I think you like me.”

“I don’t.” The timbre of her voice betrayed her true feelings. He lifted his head and she felt cold where it’d been nestled moments before, but soon she felt the warmth of his lips against hers. They were soft and gone in a moment, a ghost of a kiss. She regained her senses and found him looking at her, eyes gleaming with mischief. It was a challenge. She bent and touched her lips to his, light and undemanding, the same way he had. When she tried to withdraw he followed, kissing her again but lingering this time, his lips parted slightly. They were soft and she opened to him. His tongue slipped past her lips and she let him taste her, the soft caress making her light-headed. 

His hands moved up her back and she felt the hem of her shirt rise. He pulled it over her head and let it fall to the floor. Goosebumps pebbled her skin as the air settled around her, even with the warmth of the fire. She stepped back and crossed her arms over her chest.

“Are you cold?” he asked.

“No, I’m...” nervous, she wanted to say. He was about to see every inch of her, all the things she’d been told must be hidden beneath embroidered skirts. Reality penetrated the haze of sensation he’d created until she felt his hands on her wrists. He looped them around his neck and stepped into her, his hands coming to rest on her hips, eyes searching hers for permission. 

“It’s alright,” he soothed. “We don’t have as much time as I’d like, but I promise I won’t hurt you.”

Brienne barked a laugh that startled both of them. “Hurt me?” she asked. Did he think she was a maid from a song? Her laughter was stopped by his mouth on hers, harder this time, his tongue tasting and teasing her. Her hand drifted to the stubble just under his jaw, letting it tickle her fingertips. She swore he sighed like a woman just before he whirled her around and backed her into the bed. 

“Lay down,” he commanded. Normally she’d chafe at his presumption, but she had no idea what to do next and was happy to let him take the lead. She settled on her back, arms at her sides, and took a deep breath. She felt like she was about to be examined by a maester. Instead, Jaime cast off his tunic and sat on the edge of the bed next to her. She looked up at him, taking in his broad shoulders and muscled chest. He was so perfect it was almost disgusting, and the imbalance set her nerves on fire. He must have sensed her discomfort, because when she met his eyes he was looking down at her with concern. He reached out and smoothed her hair away from her face, then he leaned down and kissed her. “You know,” he said softly, “you’re terribly easy to read.” His hand trailed from her face to her neck and then between her breasts, leaving goosebumps in its wake. “I know you’re afraid.” He continued his exploration, the warmth of his hand on her stomach making everything else feel like ice. 

“I’m not afraid,” she insisted.

“No?” he asked, his hand resting at the top of her breaches.

“No,” she replied, daring him to continue. Instead, he stood and tugged them off, leaving her naked and on display. She resisted the urge to cover herself as he returned to his spot beside her. The way he looked at her… no one had ever looked at her like that before. She’d been scrutinized, assessed, catalogued into a taxonomy of freaks, but this was something else. Perhaps it was true—that all women were the same in the dark, or in her case when there was no other option. But as he looked at her in the warm light of the fire, she couldn’t be sure his reactions weren’t genuine. She’d never been the object of anyone’s lust, but she could swear he was looking at her with desire. 

Jaime leaned down and kissed her again, slowly and deeply, and shifted until he was over her. As he lowered himself, she parted her legs instinctively. He settled between them and expelled any doubts she had as his hardness pressed into her center. She gasped as she felt the warmth of him through his breeches, the sensation slightly painful but incredibly pleasant and not nearly enough. It was gone before she could ask for more and he’d lifted himself off her, shifting lower until she felt his breath between her legs. 

He had barely touched her, but already she felt something coiling in her center. He lowered his head, his tongue darting out to taste her, and she gripped the sheets. He repeated the action, harder this time, his tongue firm. Her hips tilted toward him and her breath came in short bursts as he massaged her clit. She felt one of his fingers move slip inside her, moving slowly in and out in rhythm with his mouth. Another joined it and she gasped, clasping a hand over her face to keep from making noise. He pulled it away. “I want to hear you,” he said and sat up, his fingers still moving inside her.

“Why?” she asked.

He removed his fingers and leaned down, positioning himself over her so they were face to face. “Because I want to hear what I’m doing to you.” 

He pushed his breaches down and she he felt the head of his cock press against her cunt. Instinctively, she wrapped her arms around him, trying to center herself. “Okay,” was all she could think to say. She held him tightly as he entered her inch by inch, each small stroke parting her, pushing her into the mattress. She knew that outside the room there was a witch and a king and an oath, but none of it mattered. She could only feel him and the point at which they were joined. 

Brienne gripped Jaime’s back as he entered her fully and his pelvis met hers. She knew it was supposed to hurt, but what little pain she felt was laced with pleasure. He kissed her, taking his time while he let her get used to the feeling until she hooked a leg around his waist. He hummed at the movement of her hips and began to thrust in and out of her slowly, one of his hands tangling in her hair. His lips left hers and he moved faster, tearing little sounds out of her with each stroke. They were shy at first, but the pleasure she felt soon lost its edge. It gradually built until she was too lost to be self-conscious. 

She lifted her other leg so both were hooked around him, coaxing him deeper. He sped up and gripped her hair almost painfully, his breath quickening. The feeling became nearly unbearable and she buried her face in his neck, her moans pleading, hips rising to meet his. He lost all control and thrust into her as hard as he could. Her entire body clenched around him and then she was falling and falling and falling, insensible to everything around her. She felt him collapse on top of her with his release, her name a whisper on his lips, but she couldn’t move. She could only hold him as she tried to catch her breath. 

They lay there for a few minutes, both unable to do anything else. Then Jaime rolled off her and she shivered at the loss of contact. He pulled the furs up so they were both covered and turned on his side, wrapping an arm around her. “Now what?” she asked, turning her head to look at him.

“Now we have no virgins, unless Kharloff….”

Brienne sighed and Jaime didn’t answer her question, just kissed her and rose to get dressed. When they emerged from the room they found themselves in the woods, their horses as they’d left them and their path unencumbered. Jae and Kharloff appeared moments later, confused but well-rested. In two days time she was in back in camp as if nothing had happened. It had, though, and when she next crossed paths with Ser Jaime and he tugged on her braid with a smirk, she didn’t hesitate, and she didn’t back away.


End file.
